A Forgotten Disaster
by Those sadistic tendencies
Summary: Arthur and the knights of Camelot are abducted by an unknown assailant for reasons and in a manner unbeknownst to any of them. Their captor soon reveals himself to be a man with no morals, no mercy and no obvious motives. How will the King and his friends cope as they are put through unbearable torment? Warnings for whump, torture and language. Possible slash later on
1. Chapter 1

**A forgotten disaster**

Arthur awoke with a severely throbbing head, it felt like his cranium was splitting in two, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember why. He could feel dried blood cracking as he furrowed his brow in confusion and pain. _What the hell happened?_ The king opened his eyes to a very dimly lit cave room; he realised that his wrists were encased in shackles that were directly bolted to the wall above him, his toes barely resting on the cold stone floor. And yet he couldn't remember how he had gotten here or pretty much anything else before it, he had been riding through the forest alone... then nothing.

As Arthur's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed with a jolt that he wasn't alone. In an almost perfect circle around him were his knights. _But how did_ they _get there too?_ All of them were shirtless and still unconscious, with their heads resting on their chests, none of them looked particularly healthy either. Sir Leon was sporting a long gash on his bare upper chest, that looked to have come from a sword, it was still bleeding, but not enough to be life threatening. Gwaine looked fine at first glance, but was pale and upon closer inspection, appeared to have a broken wrist, which was no doubt agony with all of his weight being on his wrists. It was red and swollen already, indicating that it had been that way for at least a couple of hours.

Sir Percival was the worst, having a bleeding head wound, and deep bruising on his left side that hinted at broken ribs, a theory supported by his harsh breathing. Sir Elyan's left leg had a large gash up the thigh and small cut up the side of his face. Lancelot appeared to be fine however other than a small amount of dried blood on his brow, probably from when he was knocked out. It seemed that all of his knights had been injured in the struggle to take them down, as Arthur assumed that he had been, but for the life of him, the king couldn't think of how or why, the only reason he could come up with was that someone intended to torture him and his knights.

But Arthur wasn't left alone with his confused and grim thoughts for very long, as soon afterwards, his knights began to wake up one by one, all groaning and looking just as disorientated as Arthur had been. Leon was first to wake and immediately saw Arthur, jerking forwards in a vain attempt to reach his king. "Sire! What happened? Are you alright?" Arthur merely shrugged in response. All of the knights followed in Leon's example with choruses of "What happened? Where am I's" all having no apparent memory of what had happened or who took them.

That was, until Lancelot broke the trend by frantically looking around and shouting "Merlin?!" Arthur tensed at this, why was Lancelot's first concern for Arthur's idiotic manservant? What had happened to him?

"What's the last thing you remember Lancelot?" asked Arthur, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I was in the armoury, talking to Merlin and suddenly he went all panicked and told me to run, I looked behind me but there was nothing there, the next thing I knew something hit me hard on the back of the head and I passed out." Lancelot looked worried but there appeared to be something deeper in his eyes that Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I have no idea what happened and I hate to be pessimistic sire, but there doesn't appear to be any way out of here, I'm sure that-"Whatever Leon was sure of however, was cut off by a sharp gust of wind and a quite chuckle, all of the men's heads snapped up to look at the tall man who had just appeared out of thin air in the centre of the room.

The man walked forwards slowly, and Arthur began to examine him as he did so. The man was tall, about the same height as, but - not any taller than - Arthur himself, and nowhere near Percival's impressive height, but tall none the less. He had shoulder length dry soot coloured hair and his face was a light coffee colour, contrasting with his cat-like yellow eyes. They were strangely coloured and shone with an eerie blue sheen behind the yellow, as if they were the eyes of a dead cat.

He was dressed in a long grey tunic, well worn and with a dark stain just above the right sleeve. The man's face was expressionless, which unnerved everyone in the room greatly, his emotionless expression reminded Arthur worryingly of his father whenever he had ordered the death of a sorcerer.

"Who are you? What do you want with us?" Arthur questioned, his voice as steely as he could make it, when chained, half naked to a wall and completely at the mercy of this stranger. The man continued to stare back at Arthur for a moment, before turning to stare at Elyan, who was chained to Arthur's right. He continued doing this, staring at each man in turn for about a minute, as if he were examining them, and then turning to the next. It was thoroughly unnerving.

"Why did you take us? What use are we to you?" Elyan asked as their captor stared at an incredibly peeved looking Gwaine, by the looks of whom, had been detained at the tavern.

The man finally responded to his prisoner's questions, by turning around to face Elyan, the impassive look not leaving his face. "I assume you are questioning me as to why I would go to the trouble of detaining you all separately and why I did not just take your king." Elyan nodded stoically.

"Call it an experiment, I want to test loyalty, I want to see how long a loyalty to a king can last, even under the most extreme conditions." A slight gleam came into the man's eyes at this last part, and most of the knights paled at this, that couldn't be in any way good.

"Why? Who are you to do this to Camelot's knights and its king?" Snapped Arthur, glaring at the man through slitted eyes, it sounded as though this stranger was planning to torture his knights, his friends. That was unacceptable.

"I have my reasons, and as to who I am, I have no name as such but if you wish to put a title to your tormentor, you should call me, Wren"

Wren of whatever his name really was, went back to the centre of the room, closed his eerie eyes and simply stood there, motionless. After nearly five minutes of this, Arthur began to exchange glances with his knights, this man seemed to be not entirely sane, he seemed like he was almost otherworldly, but at the same time was completely normal. All in all, he wasn't right, he just wasn't natural.

"I'll volunteer to go first; I think I could last long enough for you all to escape." Arthur's head snapped up at this to glare at Lancelot, who was staring back at his king with a hard determination in his warm brown eyes.

"No, I'll do it, I'm the strongest." Percival interjected, just at the same time as Leon did. Elyan and Gwaine also spoke less than a second after, Arthur's heart warmed at the fact that all of his knights were so loyal to him, but he also dreaded the thought of any of them being hurt.

Arthur opened his mouth to argue that none of them should be volunteering to be tortured. But at that moment, their captor's flicked open they were glowing bright gold, but still with the same eerie blue sheen. This Wren was definitely a sorcerer.

"It's nice to hear that you're all so eager to be a part of my experiment, but I'm afraid that I've already decided who will be first." All of the men fell silent, the only sound to be heard was Percival's strained breathing through his broken ribs.

Wren held a flicker of a smile for a moment before he moved away towards the door, where he reached for a torch and began whispering words of magic to it. The knights and king all shared yet another confused look. Was he bored? Was this a tool with which to torture whatever man was unlucky enough to be first?

Their questions were answered though when the flame of the torch flew into the air, spreading through the room to create a circle of fire on the stone floor of the cave, about a few feet from each man, and highlighting a figure hanging from the ceiling in an angry red glow.

He was tall, pale and sweating, his dark hair plastered to his face, and his eyes were darting around in panic and confusion, looking almost hysterical. He was chained by his wrists which looked incredibly painful considering that he was hanging nearly six feet from the ground. It was Merlin.

"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled, glaring murderously at Wren. Arthur wondered how they hadn't noticed him before or why Merlin hadn't called out, before seeing the cloth tied around his mouth. Merlin had been hanging there, in pain, gagged and helpless for at least as long as they had this entire time. Arthur felt burning rage bubble up inside of him. Merlin was hung from the centre of the room so that everyone could see him; he was going to be the first to be tortured.

"Why him? Why bother capturing a servant?" Arthur asked his voice cracking and betraying him. He had to pretend that Merlin didn't matter, like he was just some stupid servant. Which he was, but he was still important in a way that Arthur couldn't quite describe. All of the other knights seemed to realise what he was trying to do and kept quiet, though Gwaine's and Lancelot's eyes were fixed with hatred upon Wren.

"Titles are of no consequence, he is in your service and therefore his loyalty must be tested." Wren's lips twitched up slightly at the corners. "Although I think I can already hazard a guess as to how loyal he might be."

A quiet growl escaped from the back of Lancelot's throat at this and Arthur looked murderous.  
Wren whispered some words of magic and stared intently up at Merlin's hanging figure. The reaction was instant. Merlin began twitching wildly, his eyelids fluttering and his body's jerking causing him to swing.

"What are you doing to him? Stop it!" Arthur yelled as he watched his friend convulse in pain.  
Wren ignored him, instead speaking the words of a spell again, Merlin's twitching grew more violent and he began to whimper in pain through the gag.

"Stop!" Arthur cried again, this time joined by the other knight's outcries, Gwaine was swearing loudly at the sorcerer, who was merely watching Merlin twitch and whimper in pain, with something akin to boredom on his face. As if torturing an innocent boy was not really worth his emotions.

Merlin's torment continued for another few minutes before Wren finally released the spell and the boy relaxed as much as he could while suspended several feet off of the ground, though the whimpers continued still, muffled as they were

"Do you submit? Do you renounce your king?" Wren asked, staring impassively up at Merlin's shaking form, his eyes flashed gold and the gag dropped from Merlin's mouth, apparently much to the boy's relief.

"I'll never give up the prat... He wouldn't last a day without me" Merlin forced a grin; it almost looked realistic, but had an edge of fear to it. Arthur felt his heart swell with pride at his manservant's loyalty, but also felt it clench at what that loyalty might mean for the boy.

"Very well" Wren murmured and his eyes flashed again, this time Merlin screamed. His body jerking and twitched uncontrollably, wriggling in the air like a fish on a hook.

The screams tore through Arthur like knives, he couldn't believe that this was actually happening, that Merlin was being tortured for reasons that none of them really understood. Why was Merlin first? What had done to merit the interest that Wren was showing him? Knowing Merlin, he had probably done something stupid to display his usual ridiculous loyalty to his king.

The screams heightened in their volume the longer it went on, the wild twitching becoming more and more violent as the inhumane treatment continued, Merlin's face was scrunched tightly in agony, his eyes closed as he suffered through whatever foul magic was assaulting his body.

Wren's eyes flashed again after a minute or so and Merlin slackened, his screams died out. Wren did not allow any reprieve before he repeated his question, and Merlin refused him once more – the screams began again immediately after.

Wren did not cease the next spell for several long minutes before finally allowing Merlin any relief, the boy's body instantly going limp; simply hanging there, suspended as he was, he would surely still be in discomfort, but when Merlin's sapphire eyes opened this time, they shone with equal amounts of relief at his temporary reprieve and also determination. Arthur knew that look, it was the exact same look that entered Merlin's eyes whenever he was about to do something stupidly heroic, the same look that had been present time and time again in numerous life threatening situations.

"W-why do y-you want to t-test our...loyalty to A-Arthur?" The king's head snapped up as he heard Merlin's stuttering, pain cracked voice, the boy was still shaking but staring down at Wren in confusion and curiosity, there was still pain present in his expression, but surprisingly, no fear.

The sorcerer stared back at the servant in what appeared to be mild amusement, he considered for a moment before answering.

"Arthur Pendragon is the last to bear that name, he is a king forged in his father's image, but a man formed by those who follow him, he has the potential to be the saviour of this land, but also its end." Wren's eyes shone in the candle light as his gaze momentarily flicked to Arthur and then back to Merlin again. "He is the Once and Future King and the loyalty of his closest and dearest must be ascertained before he can be allowed any further on the journey to the creation of Albion."

Arthur stared on in confusion and a slight feeling of awe, most of what Wren said was far too insightful, it rang with truth and hope, but Arthur could still not ever believe that those words could justify the torture of innocent servants or knights. Arthur was also thrown off slightly by the phrasing Wren had used when referring to Merlin and his knights as being his "closest and dearest", he did not want to tempt fate with dangerous thoughts, but surely Gwen would be and should be counted amongst his nearest and dearest? He didn't voice his doubts however; for fear that Wren would decide to include his wife in whatever sick game this was.

"But I digress, my methods so far seem to have proved ineffectual against your will, and I doubt such simple treatment would." Wren's smooth voice dragged Arthur back out of his musings as the sorcerer began to roll up a sleeve of his long grey tunic to expose a heavily scarred forearm, old white lines inter-lapping and crisscrossing across his coffee-coloured skin. "It seems that more radical methods may be required."

With that, Wren simultaneously drew a knife from a sheath at his belt, and flashed his eyes gold, lowering Merlin suddenly so that the boy was only now about six inches off of the ground, the sudden drop caused Merlin to let out a surprised yelp, and his shoulders to relax and then tense once again as he was jolted to a stop in such an unfortunate way that his left arm was wrenched out of its socket with an incredibly sickening crack and pop. The accompanying scream of agony was quickly followed by the outraged cries of Arthur and his knight's.

Wren however ignored all of this and drew the knife across the skin of his own arm, drawing confusion from everyone in the room who watched on in sudden silence as the sorcerer began to chant under his breath as his eyes glowed once more. For several moments nothing happened apart from the continued glowing of Wren's eyes and the steady drip of blood on the stone floor from the new wound on Wren's wrist, and then the sorcerer raised his blood covered hand, and slammed it into Merlin's chest. There was an explosion of bright white-blue light and blood and then the air was rent once more by Merlin's screams.

Arthur's eyes took a moment or so to recover from the blindingly bright flash, then focused upon Merlin once more and widened in utter horror at the sight before him. Merlin's back was arched taught as a bowstring and his whole body was tight with agony clearly written into every fibre of his appearance; Wren's glowing hand was _inside_ Merlin's chest, sheathed up to the elbow within the boy's heaving rib-cage and all Merlin could do was scream.

Wren began to slowly retract his glowing arm until only a finger rested just below the surface of Merlin's skin, just above his bellybutton. The strangest thing was however, that there was no hole in the servant's chest as there should have been, instead, a glowing symbol of red light had formed - looking somewhat like a Druid marking, but with a cross running over it. Merlin slackened, seemingly relieved beyond belief, as Wren finally completely removed his flesh from Merlin's own, Wren seemed to flagged somewhat himself, though he still had the energy and audacity to smile in a wicked manner up at the boy.

"That won't be permanent dear boy, not even the oldest magic can contain your... talent for long." Merlin's drooping head snapped up at this; real fear in his blue eyes, though Arthur could not fathom the reasoning behind it, or Wren's words. "I am merely ascertaining whether your loyalty to your king stems from true belief in him, or from an... overabundance of courage that comes with a will and power such as your own."

"What are you talking about? What have you done to him?" Arthur questioned angrily, irate and confused in equal measure as he witnessed his friend's suffering and also a distinct level of crypticness from this insane sorcerer.

Wren turned to face him with a slightly amused expression upon his face, then glance back to Merlin - the fear in Merlin's eyes seemed to double and he shook his head desperately at the sorcerer; his eyes pleading. Wren's face became serious however and he turned back to Arthur.

"Your manservant has magic."


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur stared at Wren is disbelief, refusing to buy that his most trusted friend would have been able to hide something so big from him for years. The boy was a terrible liar and didn't have a single evil bone in his body – there was no way he could be a sorcerer... but looking at the terrified expression on his manservant's pale face... doubt flickered through Arthur like an icy wind.

Merlin had on many occasion escaped situations that none of his previous servants would have and he had always seemed to have been around when miraculous feats of what Arthur had assumed was luck. Bandits dropping weapons, falling tree branches, earthquakes, cave-ins, miraculous recoveries and other odd things had only started happening after Merlin had come to work for him. He had even announced himself a sorcerer in front of the court before, and Arthur had obliviously ticked it off in his head as the idiot simply trying to protect his friends by sacrificing himself.

But... if it was true... then why would Merlin have come to Camelot? Why would he have no staying in Ealdor where Camelot's laws against magic weren't enforced? Had Merlin only ever come here to spy on the royal family? To kill him? To kill his father? He couldn't think of any magic users who didn't hold a grudge against the Pendragon family.

But Merlin had saved his life at least half a dozen times that he could count and had stuck by his side all these years – giving him council and being his friend. Was that all a lie? Had Merlin secretly been manipulating him with magic to make Arthur put such trust in him? Arthur thought of Merlin's cheeky, bumbling nature and his stupid loyalty as he stared at the servant's face hung feet away from him. The boy was paler than ever, his bright blue eyes wide and pleading with Arthur – for forgiveness? For mercy?

He looked around at his knights, trying to gauge their reactions, had any of them known? From the shock clear on Leon, Percival and Elyan's faces he could tell they were just as surprised as he was, but Gwaine and Lancelot's faces were another story entirely. Lancelot's brown eyes held worry, but not surprise – he had clearly known about this and had decided to keep it secret from his king. Gwaine's furrowed brow told him that while he was surprised, he had apparently suspected something. Neither of the latter two men looked as hurt or confused as Arthur felt.

He could have understood it if Merlin had kept his magic hidden from everyone in order to protect himself, but the fact that Gwaine and Lancelot had known made indignation and anger bubble up inside Arthur's chest like bile. Merlin clearly didn't trust him as much as Arthur had trusted him. Maybe their friendship had been more one-sided than Arthur had previously thought. "Why would you practice magic? Right in the middle of Camelot! How stupid are you Merlin?"

"Arthur-" Merlin began; eyes shining with barely repressed tears, but Arthur's confusion and rage was quickly overcoming his common sense as he fixed his servant with a hard gaze.

"You couldn't trust me enough to tell me about this? You lied to me! How long Merlin? How long have you been betraying my trust?"

"Arthur, please believe me... I wanted to tell you for years... but it was never the right time-"

Arthur cut off Merlin again, growing angrier with each excuse that came from the other man's lips. "Why should I trust you Merlin? You clearly didn't trust me enough to-"

It was now Arthur's turn to be cut across, but the furious tone belonged to Gwaine, who was fixing Arthur with a fiery and unusually focused gaze. "Can you blame him? Just look how you're reacting Arthur! It's like you've just forgotten everything he's done for your ungrateful ass!"

Arthur blanched at Gwaine's blunt and – if he were being honest with himself – true words, his mouth snapping closed before he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. It was then that he remembered the most definitely evil sorcerer that was currently watching the encounter from the sidelines with a slightly bemused expression on his face. "How did _you_ know about this?"

Wren raised an eyebrow at the irate king before replying "Your manservant's magic? Anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the past hundred years could tell you of the destiny you and your servant are meant to fulfil. I wouldn't want to impede in that destiny so the restraint on his magic will only be temporary and only partially binding."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur growled, not liking the way Merlin's face paled slightly further – he was now the colour of parchment.

"The prophecy that the Once and Future King and the great Warlock Emyrs are destined to return magic and prosperity to the land of Albion." Wren glanced to Merlin once more who looked slightly ashamed, but not surprised. "The main reason you are all here is so that I can ascertain whether the faith between all of you if strong enough to make this future happen... and so far... I am somewhat disappointed in you young king."

Merlin's eyes hardened at that moment and he raised his head to face Wren's cat-like gaze with a strength far belying his appearance. "Arthur is a great king, a great man - with a good heart, and I will always trust him to make the right decision." Blue eyes flickered to meet Arthur's own. "I am happy to be his servant to the day I die... even if that death should be at his hands... I know he will only do what it right."

Arthur felt a surge of warmth flow through him at Merlin's words, the familiarity and truth that ran through them was enough to abate the previously bubbling rage and hurt that had been building within him – at least for now. They had bigger worries at the moment, like how to escape from this self-righteous, sadistic nutjob. He made sure that Merlin's gaze met his once more before sending a solemn, simple nod to him, relief seemed to flood through the warlock's body and he returned the nod.

"As heartening as this all is, I don't believe I had finished testing your loyalty Merlin." Wren moved back towards the hanging servant, withdrawing his still bloody knife once more, causing the boy to tense.

"I trust him! You don't need to do this!" Arthur cried, tugging on his restraints, as did the other knights – barring Leon who looked decidedly conflicted as he stared at Merlin. Arthur was well aware of the fact that Leon was more stringently against magic due to a combination of his strict knight's training and the fact that his entire family had been killed during the purge by sorcerers.

Arthur pushed the potential issue from his mind however as Wren drew the knife's blade across Merlin's wrist in one fairly deep slash that caused the boy to hiss in pain. Wren conjured a goblet into his empty hand and held it below the bleeding wound until the chalice was about half full. All of them watched on in confusion as Wren performed a long chant with his hand waving above the surface of the blood until there was a flash of light. More blasted blood magic by the looks of it.

Wren then waved his hand in a much more dramatic gesture, sweeping his arm up and then rotating in a circle of the entire room – the blood rose from the chalice with the movement. Once out in the open air the blood turned to a scarlet mist that hung around for a moment before swiftly following the ark that Wren's arm had moved in, flying towards each knight even as they fought futilely against their restraints to avoid the oncoming magic.

Arthur watched on in utter horror as one by one, each man inhaled the blood smoke; their eyes turning a blazing crimson to match that of the smoke and they began fighting all the harder against their bonds. The smoke did not reach Arthur however and merely dissipated once it reached Elyan who was on his closest side, Wren's eyes flashed a bright gold once more and suddenly everyone in the room apart from Arthur was released from their chains.

Merlin bit back a cry as the sudden pressure released on his dislocated shoulder caused the limb to flare with agony and he fell to the ground in an undignified heap, clutching at the limp, injured appendage. What happened next however was far worse than watching Wren torment his servant with magical pain.

The knights were now all free and on their feet, and they charged towards Wren and Merlin with bloodlust clearly shining in their now clear eyes. But instead of attacking the evil sorcerer as Arthur would have expected – they went for Merlin.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin barely had time to get his shaky, weak legs under him before the first knight was upon him, which unfortunately happened to be Percival. Just as the injured servant turned to face the oncoming behemoth of a man, he struck up with a swift uppercut to his jaw, sending Merlin sprawling onto his back with a groan of surprise and pain. The rest of them were on him mere seconds after, laying into him with blows to the stomach, legs, chest, face – anything they could reach with fists and feet according to availability. He could see Arthur's distraught face as he watched on in absolute horror. All Merlin could do was curl up to protect himself as his friends mercilessly beat him with blind rage in their eyes and snarls upon their faces. There was nothing that the chained king could do to help him but pull futilely at his bonds.

There was a look of despair and agony on Merlin's bloody, bruised face that surpassed that of the beating itself – he knew that he could stop this. He knew that he could throw his friends away from him with his magic if he really focused hard enough, but he knew that with the binding Wren had placed upon him, his magic would be incredibly unstable – difficult to control. He could easily hurt or even kill one of his friends without meaning to. The amount of force it would take to break through the enchantment placed upon him would be volatile to say the least. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk it.

Merlin cried out particularly loudly when one especially brutal kick – from Leon? – stuck his injured shoulder, he felt something further crack in the appendage that sent white shards of hot agony shot though his arm. He could feel his magic bucking and fighting against the spell holding it and it was all the young warlock could do to hold it back as he writhed in pain under the continuing flurries of blows raining down upon him.

He could barely see anymore, but his eyes bugged open in shock nonetheless when he felt a weight lower itself onto his chest, putting mind-splitting pressure and strain on his already damaged ribs. Merlin couldn't breathe. The situation was certainly not helped when he felt a pair of strong hands wrap themselves around his throat. His chest heaved painfully in an attempted attempt to breathe and his mouth gaped uselessly, his uninjured arm coming up to grasp weakly at the appendages gripping his throat. It made no difference. A solid boot stamped down on his good wrist until something snapped and would had screamed had he had the air to do so.

This couldn't be what Wren had intended could it? What was the point of testing his loyalty if he was only going to let Merlin die now? His destiny with Arthur had not yet been fulfilled. Why was he doing this? Merlin couldn't die like this. It wasn't fair. In all of the different ways he had pictured his death, none of them included being beaten and choked to death by the men whom he had considered his best friends. He had expected to die protecting Arthur or one of his friends. Not like this.

His eyes focussed just enough for him to see a shaggy head of dark brown hair hovering inches above his own, an angry slash of red where his mouth should be and burning hazel eyes glaring down at him. Merlin pulled on the last molecules of air left in his battered, abused body to force out a hoarse, nearly silent sound that only just sounded like the knight's name. "Gw'n"

He could distantly hear a panicked voice yelling his name, but it was fading, colours were fading, sounds were fading. The agony was fading. Everything was fading away. He was fading.

That was the moment that his magic snapped. It pushed violently through the residue of his control, it shattered apart the spell bound in his blood like a rock shatters glass. The window was open and the storm was released. The weight disappeared from his chest and throat and the blows stopped. There were loud thuds all around him and cries of surprise. Merlin's back arched suddenly, and he sucked in several lungfuls of much needed air before harsh coughing wracked his battered body. He curled up on his side as the bone rattling shook his frame, attempting to wrap an arm around his ribs before both limbs flared with agony at the endeavoured movement.

"Merlin! Merlin! Answer me!" there was that concerned, demanding voice again. Arthur. That was Arthur. He should probably answer that call. Arthur would get mad otherwise. But he didn't have enough air to do so, he didn't have enough energy or working limbs to do much of anything to be quite honest. There was an encroaching fuzzy darkness at the edge of his mind that seemed like a safe place to retreat into.

But there was that voice again. "Merlin!" and it was joined by others, all calling his name in that same tone. But try as he might, Merlin just couldn't find his way through the haze to the voices. He let the blackness take him instead. It was quieter there.

 **Reviews appreciated**


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